Choosing Flow over Force

On questioning autopilot and moving beyond the script

Podcast Episode — with Joerik Michiels [Link to episode]

For the first few episodes of this podcast, I spoke with people I already knew.

There was comfort in that familiarity, a quiet sense of safety as I found my rhythm as a host.

This time was different.

For the first time, I invited someone I had never met before.

Someone I had only encountered through articles, podcasts, and the stories others told about him.

Someone who, if I am honest, felt slightly out of my league.

That someone was Joerik Michiels.

Joerik is the founder of Elite Athletes and has spent more than fifteen years coaching basketball across over forty countries and five continents. He has worked with athletes at every level, from grassroots players to professionals, including WNBA and EuroLeague talent. 

Questioning autopilot

When I asked him about being an agent of change, Joerik described a persistent feeling that he did not quite belong in the way things were commonly done.

“I kept questioning everything.  Why are we doing it this way?  Why does everyone seem to be on autopilot?”

That instinct to question became a compass.

Rather than competing in crowded spaces,

trying to outperform others within established systems,

he chose a different current.

The metaphor often used is that of the red ocean versus the blue ocean.

In red oceans, we compete.

In blue oceans, we create.

“If everyone is doing one thing,” he explained, “there is often value in doing the exact opposite.”

It takes courage to swim there — especially before others can see what you see.

Bringing joy back into the game

One of the shifts Joerik has long advocated for is deceptively simple:

sport should be joyful.

Research shows that many young athletes drop out because the game stops being fun.

The pressure to perform increases, the emphasis on becoming “the best” grows louder — even though only a tiny percentage will ever play professionally.

His response is not to lower standards, but to redesign the environment.

More playing.

Less talking.

Music on the court.

Training formats that feel alive.

Yet beneath that energy lies a deeply intentional philosophy.

Joerik describes himself as an architect of learning, creating realistic — and sometimes deliberately demanding — situations in which players must think for themselves and make decisions under pressure.

Growth, in his view, happens in what he calls the zone of genius — the space between comfort and overwhelm.

But even that requires balance.

Too much challenge can erode confidence.

Repetition rebuilds it.

The 'art of coaching' lies in knowing when to stretch and when to stabilize.

One percent better

Nearly fifteen years ago, Joerik encountered the Japanese philosophy of Kaizen — continuous improvement through small, consistent steps. It transformed not only his coaching, but his life.

Becoming one percent better each day does not demand grand gestures.

Some days it might mean listening to a ten-minute podcast.

On others, it might open the door to hours of exploration across entirely different domains.

What matters is the commitment to remain in motion.

At one point during our conversation, I noticed myself reacting internally to words like goals and consistency. They sounded linear to me, as if life were a straight path toward a predefined destination.

I am grateful I voiced that hesitation, because his response reframed it entirely.

Goals evolve. Intentions shift. Learning is rarely linear.

What matters is to establish a mindset of continuous learning and growing.

Flow versus force

At a certain point, Joerik spoke about a theme that has increasingly shaped his life:

the movement from force toward flow.

Many of us operate from force.

We plan relentlessly, push forward,

attempt to control outcomes.

Flow asks something else entirely. Trust. The willingness to follow what feels aligned — and to release what does not.

His commitment to this way of living was not born from theory, but from a period of profound personal change. Within a single month, he sold three companies and went through a separation that meant seeing his young son less often. Life, as he knew it, shifted dramatically.

What allowed him to make such difficult decisions?

A simple but confronting question:

What is truly holding me back — a valid reason, or fear?

He imagined the worst-case scenario and realized he would still have enough.

A network.

His talents.

The possibility to begin again.

Since then, he has tried to orient his life less around force and more around flow.

Some days are intensely productive.

Others slower.

But the driver is no longer pressure.

It is alignment.

After the conversation

When the recording ended and the door closed behind him,

I felt energy.

Unsettling. Creative. Alive.

The conversation had not followed my script.

At several moments, I had caught myself wanting to pull it back toward safer territory.

Stay structured.

Stay prepared.

Instead, we wandered.

And what stayed with me most was not only what was said, but how safe the conversation had felt with someone I had never met before.

Before we even started recording,

he had turned his curiosity toward me.

What was I hoping to create with this podcast?

What had I learned so far?

It felt like an unexpected invitation to reconnect with my own intention.

In the days that followed, that energy did not fade.

Beneath the ordinariness of daily routines — grocery runs, emails, household tasks — I found myself reading more, thinking more, questioning more.

Something had shifted.

The potential of AI as a tool for reflection

One part of our conversation continued to echo long after the microphones were turned off.

When we spoke about the growing use of AI as a tool for reflection and personal growth, I noticed something shift inside me.

Part of me immediately recognized the potential.

I have caught myself turning to these tools too — to think something through, to prepare a difficult conversation, to better understand what I might be feeling.

And yet, almost simultaneously, another voice appeared.

Not only as an individual, but as a professor working in biomedical data sciences.

As someone who is expected, at least in part, to understand what these technologies mean for our lives.

What does it mean when we begin to confide in systems that were ultimately built with commercial objectives? What happens when guidance becomes available without relationship? When reflection is mediated by something that does not know us — yet learns from us?

I notice the same tension as a parent, watching a younger generation grow up in conversation with technologies we ourselves are still trying to comprehend. Curious. Fluent. Unafraid.

Perhaps more than we are.

I do not yet have answers to these questions.

But perhaps that is precisely why they deserve to be spoken aloud.

Not as conclusions — but as invitations to think more carefully about the kinds of relationships we are beginning to form.

I realized that as a host, I do not need fully formed opinions to facilitate meaningful conversations.

Nor must I endorse everything that is shared.

We are allowed to explore ideas together.

Listeners, too, are free to take what resonates and leave what does not.

Where am I still afraid?

If I am honest, this conversation revealed something else too.

I started this podcast with a simple intention: to speak with people who spark curiosity, to ask the questions that genuinely matter to me, and to explore what it means to become an agent of change.

Yet even with that clarity, another voice still appears from time to time.

What will people think? Is this good enough? Should I have stayed closer to my script?

After this conversation, I found myself sitting with a quieter, more personal question:

Where am I still afraid?

Not during the conversation itself, but afterwards. Afraid of judgment. Afraid of being associated with ideas still unfolding. Afraid of not knowing.

Maybe the work is not to eliminate that fear, but to recognize it — without allowing it to steer the course.

Staying close to what moves us

When I think back on this episode now,

I realize that change rarely arrives as a grand declaration.

More often, it begins in subtle shifts — choosing curiosity over certainty, presence over control, flow over force.

This conversation reminded me that courage can also look like staying close to what genuinely moves us — even when it leads beyond the script.

Perhaps that is where change begins.

Not in having all the answers.

But in trusting the questions that refuse to let us go.

If this conversation resonated with you, I warmly invite you to continue exploring Joerik’s work through his website and Instagram.

Should this episode spark a reflection of your own, feel free to share it — in the comments, via LinkedIn, or by reaching out directly. I always value hearing what these conversations awaken in others.

And if you have not yet listened to the full episode, you can find it via this link.

Because conversations, at their best, do not end when the recording stops.

They continue in the thoughts they leave behind — and in the dialogue they invite.